


badlands: An Olicity AU

by lerayon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Arrow AU, Badlands, Eventual Sex, F/M, Sexual Tension, halsey!olicity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:43:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lerayon/pseuds/lerayon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Olicity AU inspired by the Halsey album, Badlands (Deluxe).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. castle

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter corresponds, in order, to the song tracks on the deluxe version of Halsey's Badlands.

Felicity jolted awake as the plane rocked through several pockets of turbulence in quick succession. Her hands gripped the leather armrests, and she rapidly surveyed the empty cabin as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight streaming in through rounded windows. Beyond them, blue skies and white clouds stretched out into the distance. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep, and now was disoriented and panicky.

“Apologies, Ms. Smoak,” came Christopher’s voice over the intercom. “We’ve hit a rough patch of air, but we’ll get through it momentarily and have you safely on the ground in Starling soon enough.”

Felicity’s eyes trained on the curtain three rows ahead that separated her from the cockpit, and she focused on her lead pilot’s voice, which was soothing in its assuredness. Christopher was an experienced aviator, had been employed by the company for years, and Felicity had every confidence in his abilities. And those of his co-pilot, Dan. A few minutes later the air buffeting the Cessna subsided.

While flying had never been her favorite, this bumpy flight wasn’t the primary cause of Felicity’s distress. Rather, it was the phone call she received this morning – the catalyst for her hasty departure from Central City – that set her nerves jangling. Her mind was a riot of worry as she contemplated the worst-case scenarios that could greet her when she landed. She clasped her hands together in her lap. Her right thumb worried at the strip of skin at the base of her left, yet did little to interrupt the tremble that ran down her fingers.

Felicity looked at her watch. _Not quite noon_.

“Screw it,” she muttered, removing her seatbelt and making her way towards the rear of the private aircraft.

The galley was well-stocked, and she took two mini bottles of vodka from the small freezer and a glass from the rack mounted above the counter. Once returned to her seat, she emptied the contents of one bottle into her glass and took a slow, deep drink. The liquor burned going down, but she soon felt its settling effect. Her hands stopped shaking and she crossed her arms, resting the cool glass against her chest. Felicity took several breaths and attempted to keep her fears at bay.

\-----

As the plane taxied to a stop at Starling City Airport, Felicity spied the ground crew moving about and watched as a black sedan drove up and parked alongside the vessel. She gathered her things and met Dan at the airstairs. He took her carry-on with a nod and a somber, “Welcome to Starling City, Ms. Smoak,” before disembarking to place the bag in the sedan’s trunk.

Christopher emerged from the cockpit, and Felicity reached out to take both his hands in her own. “Christopher, thank you. Again, I’m so sorry for the short notice.”

“No apologies necessary,” he replied, giving her hands a light squeeze. “You let us know when you need us again. You’re in my thoughts.”

With a final thank you and a wan smile, Felicity turned to descend the short flight of steps. She was surprised to see John Diggle standing at their base.

“Dig!” she exclaimed, rushing down to pull him into a fierce hug. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you to meet me; I thought you’d be at the office. Or the hospital.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, and she worked to stifle a sob before releasing the large man from her embrace. John Diggle, or “Dig” as his friends called him, was the company’s head of security, and he surely could have sent someone else to meet her plane.

“Of course I’m here, Felicity,” Diggle replied, opening the car’s rear door and gesturing for her to climb inside. Felicity waved him off and rounded the vehicle to settle herself into the front passenger seat.

Once situated behind the wheel, Diggle turned to her, his face masked in concern but his voice steady and reassuring. “I just came from the hospital. He’s still in surgery, and it could be another three hours before we hear anything new. But he’s strong and stubborn as hell. If anyone can pull through, it’s him.”

Felicity had a dozen questions on the tip of her tongue, but this news brought her up short, and she grappled with the implications of Dig’s words. “Three _more_ hours?” she asked. “But he’s already been on the table for that long! Unless there are serious complications, this procedure should last about four.”

Diggle didn’t have to ask Felicity how she’d arrived at that conclusion. He could see her tablet peeking out over the top of her large handbag, and had no doubt she’d spent her flight researching medical procedures. He gently squeezed his young friend’s shoulder.

“Felicity, the doctors couldn’t say for sure what they might find once they opened him up. They said we should prepare for a wait of several hours before we’d know the outcome.”

Bile rose in Felicity’s throat as those worst-case scenarios came crashing back into her mind. She swallowed thickly and nodded. “Is anyone there with him? He’s not alone is he?”

“Laurel is there,” Diggle said. She knew you’d want someone to keep watch.”

“And what abou–” she began hesitantly, her voice pitched lower. But the question died on Felicity’s lips as her phone buzzed and the screen lit up with Laurel Lance’s name and photo.

“Laurel!” Felicity answered frantically. “Is he out of surgery? What are the doctors saying? Is everything alright?”

Felicity listened for a long minute. “Malcolm? What’s he have to do with anything?”

Diggle, who’d just started the engine, stiffened at the mention of Malcolm Merlyn. He looked to Felicity and waited. As she listened again to Laurel, the emotions that crossed Felicity’s face moved from confusion to anger to a steely calm that set off warning bells for Diggle.

“What is it?” he asked, once she’d clicked End on her phone.

“Malcolm’s making a play for the company. I guess he figured it’s the perfect time, with the CEO…incapacitated and me distracted with worry. He’s gathered together several members of the board.” Felicity relayed this with her eyes set on the steel and glass structure rising high in the distance above the city. Now, as she turned to John, he saw those normally bright blue eyes were a stormy gray behind her glasses. Her mouth was set in a determined line.

Despite how badly Felicity wanted to be at the hospital, they both knew she couldn’t be useful there. And she was needed elsewhere.

Diggle nodded his assent to her unspoken request and, pointing the car towards the city, he headed straight for the office.

As Dig drove them into the heart of Starling, Felicity fought back the angry tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks. She was furious that Malcolm Merlyn would exploit a crisis to make a move for CEO. His current position as chief operating officer afforded him control of the corporation’s day-to-day activities, but that role apparently wasn’t enough for Malcolm. He was a shrewd businessman who never hesitated to utilize aggressive tactics when dealing with their rivals, but Felicity had hardly suspected he would apply the same questionable approach to his own colleagues, or that he was so thirsty for power. Felicity silently chided herself for her naiveté.

But there was no use crying about it; she had to prepare.

Felicity opened the visor mirror to take a brief inventory of her appearance. Considering the two-hour plane ride, her silk blouse and pencil skirt had held up relatively well. She was only somewhat wrinkled. More than appropriate for an impromptu board meeting, the outfit also happened to be a favorite. When she wore it Felicity felt formidable. She would need that feeling today – and on more than one front it seemed. With a slash of pink applied to her lips, errant mascara traces removed from her eyes, and a few brush strokes through her hair, Felicity’s armor was in place. That handled, she sat a little taller in her seat and picked up her phone to make a call.

\-----

Felicity strode deliberately through the office corridors, her heels clicking sharply on the marble flooring. Couriers, assistants, and executives alike all receded to the fringes, clearing for her an unobstructed path to the 40th floor conference room.

Throwing open the double doors, Felicity took in the scene. The large room stretched out before her; a glass rectangular table spanning its length. At the opposite end sat Malcolm Merlyn – in the chair reserved for CEO. As his eyes locked with hers, Malcolm smiled.

In her periphery, Felicity noted that several of the men present half-rose in acknowledgement of her entrance. Malcolm, however, settled more comfortably into the high-backed chair; his smile growing wider. He clearly had no intention of vacating the seat.

Felicity stepped forward to stand next to the empty chair at her end of the table and rested her fingertips on the cool tabletop. She looked at the face of each person assembled and spoke.

“Hello, everyone. I’m sorry to be late, but I only just arrived from Central City. I must have missed the notification about this afternoon’s meeting.”

With a quirked eyebrow, small smile, or amused glint of their eyes, a few board members indicated their approval of Felicity’s purposefully generous and ironic characterization of the situation. In near equal numbers, others shifted their eyes downward or looked to Malcolm for guidance. It was clear to all that Felicity Smoak had not been notified, and none had expected her attendance at this meeting, considering today’s events.

“Felicity, I wouldn’t dream of burdening you with these matters today,” Malcolm replied smoothly. “We’ve all been deeply concerned since the news broke this morning. Have you been by the hospital? How–”

Flashing a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes, Felicity raised her palm to halt his words and interrupted, “Your concern is evident, Malcolm. Thank you.” Felicity slid into her seat and continued, “Any matter important enough to warrant an urgent gathering of this body is no burden. Please. Catch me up.”

With both hands, the older man gestured broadly towards the group. “Many of us felt it prudent to safeguard this company’s interests by maintaining continuity of strong leadership during this uncertain time.

“And let me guess, Malcolm,” Felicity interjected. You think that _you_ are the proper person to lead us?

Malcolm’s eyes narrowed slightly at the edge in her voice; Felicity’s obvious challenge hanging between them. “Felicity, allow me to remind you that you are the youngest and most recent addition to this board. Certainly you’re not suggesting that you take up the mantle of CEO – capable businesswoman as you are, of course.

The sarcasm dripping from his last words indicated that Malcolm deemed her anything but. Felicity bristled at his insinuation, her chin jutting outward, but she recovered quickly. She addressed her next comments to the room at large.

“On the contrary, in fact, I believe this discussion to be supremely premature. However, if mine is the minority opinion, I can respect the board’s decision on that point and will remain open-minded to any suggestions on how we should proceed.”

“I have a suggestion.” From the doorway behind Felicity, a rich, accented voice announced the arrival of Walter Steele.

Half turning in her seat, Felicity smiled fondly up at the chief financial officer as he approached to stand at her side.

“I beg your pardon for that unintentionally dramatic entrance; I couldn’t help myself. And I must apologize for my unforgivable tardiness. Walter glanced down at Felicity before continuing, “I have Felicity to thank for alerting me to a technical error that surely prevented this meeting from appearing on my schedule.”

Dispensing with all pretense of cordiality, Malcolm curtly asked, “Your suggestion, Steele?”

A short vote later, the board named Walter Steele interim CEO and agreed to table further discussion about permanent leadership for the time-being.

\-----

When Felicity finally arrived at the hospital, a nurse immediately ushered her to the Intensive Care Unit. Any remnants of the poise she’d affected in the board room melted away completely once Felicity stepped into the private room. She blindly pulled a chair alongside the bed and sat, careful not to disturb the myriad wires and tubes that snaked their way down from too many life-sustaining machines. Her voice quavering and tears streaming down her face, Felicity whispered, “It’s me. It’s Felicity. I’m here, Dad. I’m home.”

A gentle throat-clearing from the corner sounded in response. Felicity’s head snapped up as she simultaneously swiped under her foggy lenses to remove the tears blurring her vision. Once cleared, Felicity looked over to see Oliver Queen’s tall frame folded into a chair.

“Hi,” he greeted her softly, tucking his chin to glance down at his feet. When he looked up to finally meet her gaze he added, “It’s been awhile.”

“Two years,” she agreed.

 

**Listen to Halsey's Castle[here](https://open.spotify.com/track/16w8ZGVSjI4TlTLV8VimBY)**


	2. hold me down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Olicity AU inspired by the Halsey album, Badlands (Deluxe).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter corresponds, in order, to the song tracks on the deluxe version of Halsey's Badlands.

A low, “Shit,” hissed through Felicity’s brain as she watched Oliver duck his head; the gesture so painfully, maddeningly familiar she closed her eyes to the sight.

Since this morning when he called with the news of her dad’s heart attack, Felicity had known she probably would see Oliver today. When she wasn’t worrying that her dad might wake from surgery before she could get to him or, terrifyingly, not wake up at all, Felicity had indulged in fleeting thoughts of what it would be like to stand in the same room with Oliver Queen for the first time since their break-up. She had resolved to not allow the distraction of his presence to shake her, and then dismissed all thoughts of the man to concentrate on shoring up the strength she would need once she arrived at the hospital.

But that was then – high above the city with her hand wrapped around a glass of liquid courage. Now, confronted with her dad lying vulnerable in his hospital bed, after she had expended so much energy facing down Malcolm Merlyn in the Smoak Industries board room, Felicity was drained of her strength. The realization that Oliver was seated just a few feet away stripped her of her focus.

The instant his eyes met hers, Felicity’s stomach swooped, her heart pounded, her breath stilled. He was so impossibly beautiful. She could nearly weep at the sight of him. The fingers not holding tight to her dad’s hand twitched with the desire to reach out for Oliver’s stubbled jaw.

Almost immediately Felicity’s brain rebelled at the impulse and a red flash of resentment, coupled with a dull ache of loss, rose up to replace the longing she couldn’t afford to feel for her ex. How dare he sit there with his striking blue eyes clouded in apprehensive concern. How dare her body betray her dormant weakness for the way he wore a three-piece suit.

\-----

As these conflicting emotions warred within her, Felicity barely heard the words, “Two years,” mechanically escape her lips in response to Oliver’s greeting.

Oliver nodded slowly, a weak smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Now that you’re here, the surgeon should be by soon with an update,” he said.

The abrupt change in subject brought Felicity back to herself and to her dad. She looked down at him and squeezed his hand before turning her attention to Oliver. This time she avoided his gaze. “Thank you for getting him here so quickly…and for calling me when you did,” she stiffly said.

Oliver opened his mouth to respond just as William Smoak’s doctor knocked and entered the room. Felicity and Oliver both jumped to their feet and looked to her expectantly.

“Ms. Smoak?” the young surgeon asked, reaching to shake Felicity’s hand. “Hi, I’m Dr. Franks. I worked on your dad.”

“How is he?” Felicity asked. “How’d the surgery go?”

Dr. Franks explained, “Your father had no complications during surgery, and he’s been stable since we left the operating room. I did find significant narrowing and blockages of his arteries. A blood clot had formed, which is what caused his heart attack today. I had to perform three coronary artery bypass grafts to clear new routes to his heart to increase blood flow.”

Felicity blanched at this update. Her dad had just been through a major procedure; _three_ major procedures, actually. Understanding the facts in the abstract was one thing, but listening to the details of how this doctor had repaired her dad’s heart was quite another.

At that same moment, the combined heady scent of fresh laundry, cedar, and a faint trace of ginger overwhelmed Felicity’s senses. The image of Oliver smiling down into her kiss, his arms wrapped securely around her waist, came hurtling into her mind. Felicity’s knees buckled at the unbidden memory. She reached back to her chair to steady herself, but instead found Oliver’s large hand cupped tightly at her elbow. He had drifted closer as Dr. Franks spoke, his intoxicating smell catching her off-guard.

At Dr. Franks’ look of alarm, Felicity shook her head to signal she was fine and swiftly pulled away from Oliver’s grasp. She stiffened her spine and asked, “When will he wake up? How long before I can take him home?”

The doctor replied, “I want to keep him sedated and on the ventilator for a day or two. Excess fluid has accumulated in your father’s lungs, making it difficult to breathe. We are treating it with medication, but the ventilator will help to support his lungs while the fluid drains. We’ll keep him here for at least a week, and he’ll begin his physical therapy and get back to eating before we discharge him.”

Dr. Franks added with a reassuring smile, “Ms. Smoak, your dad did really well in surgery, and everything looks good right now. We will keep a close eye on him, and get him on his feet and back home as soon as we can.”

“Thank you, Doctor” Felicity managed. The totality of the day’s events settled over her like a heavy shroud. Dr. Franks left, and Felicity reluctantly turned to face Oliver. Grateful as she was for everything he had done for her dad today, Felicity really needed him to go.

“Oliv--,” she began, but he was already reaching for his suit jacket.

“I should leave you two alone,” he said. “I’m really glad he’s going to be okay, Felicity.”

The sound of her name on his lips, uttered softly, his tongue rolling over the syllables in a manner that was distinctly Oliver, hit Felicity square in the chest and she flinched, fresh tears springing to her eyes.

Understanding dawned on Oliver’s face but, much to Felicity’s relief, he did not reach for her this time. Instead, he transferred his coat from his left hand to his right and shifted his weight as an awkward silence settled between them. The only sound in the room was the steady whisper of the ventilator.

Felicity hated this display of weakness. She hated that he could elicit this reaction two years after he had walked out of her life, and she resented that he now knew just how deeply he still could affect her. Felicity resented him for that, and for the tremendous effort her attempts to keep this side of herself concealed required. She was awash in exhaustion, and this exertion – the anger she conjured to mask her vulnerability – threatened to drown her.

Felicity defiantly wiped her eyes. “Thank you again. For everything.” Not waiting for a response, she turned back to her father’s bed and grabbed hold of his hand. Once the sound of Oliver’s retreating footsteps subsided, Felicity dropped into her seat with a shuddering sob.

\-----

Felicity sat with her dad for several hours. Most of the time passed in silence, punctuated by the hospital staff’s visits to monitor his vitals. When she did speak, Felicity rattled on about recent developments in the Smoak Industries Applied Sciences Division, which she directed in Central City. Exciting breakthroughs had been made in the water desalinization project since last month’s quarterly report, and she knew her dad would be pleased with the new tech she’d helped develop. Felicity also told him how sorry she was that her infrequent visits home were usually centered on company business; she apologized for being so distant.

At six o’clock, a nurse gently suggested Felicity might benefit from a break and gave her directions to the hospital café. Felicity drank two cups of coffee and picked at a turkey sandwich while emailing her assistant with instructions on how to adjust her schedule. She would not return to Central City for at least three weeks, and would attend to any pressing company matters from her office in Starling.

Felicity also called Laurel Lance. Her friend and general counsel for Smoak Industries, Laurel had been Felicity’s first phone call after she heard about the heart attack. Laurel had rushed to Starling General and remained there until Felicity was en route from Smoak Industries. After the board vote, Laurel was needed back at the office to assist Walter Steele and the public relations team with the leadership transition.

Laurel picked up on the first ring. “How is he? What’d the doctor say?”

Felicity gave her the prognosis. She tried to channel Dr. Franks’ measured optimism and remain positive, but faltered. “He looks so frail lying there, Laurel. Old all of a sudden.”

“Felicity, your dad is one of the strongest men I’ve ever known. We just have to believe that he’s going to be okay.” Laurel paused before continuing, “He’s gonna be beyond pissed when he wakes up though. He’ll hate having to dial back here at work, and I’m pretty sure he’s got to give up scotch now.”

Felicity laughed for the first time since this morning. “Yeah, you’re right. I already feel bad for the nurses. He’s going to be the worst patient.”

“So...did you talk to Oliver?” Laurel asked.

Felicity rolled her eyes and smiled at Laurel’s attempt at a casual segue. “Messy. Weird. I don’t really want to talk about it right now. I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“Well, he was pretty good with the hospital staff. He had answered a lot of questions about your dad’s personal details and medical history by the time I got there. And he was obviously anxious to see you. It was like his head was on a swivel every time someone came through the doors.”

Felicity nodded as Laurel spoke, but didn’t respond to those revelations. She opted for an office update. “How’s everything over there? Did the press release go out?”

It took a few seconds for Laurel to reply. Felicity knew she was deciding whether to press the subject of Oliver Queen, and was relieved when Laurel answered, “Yes, and people are already calling to extend good wishes for your dad, and to offer Walter their support. I think the transition will be smooth, but we’re all keeping an eye on Malcolm.”

Changing the subject again, Laurel added, “I gave Raisa a ring at the mansion earlier. Sounds like you can expect quite the selection of fruits and smoked meats when you get home. The business community sure loves to express itself with a well-curated basket.”

Felicity laughed again at Laurel’s dry delivery and efforts to keep her distracted. She missed spending time with her friend.

“I think I’ll stay in the city tonight to stick close to the hospital. If there’s no change with Dad tomorrow, do you want to meet me for lunch?” Felicity asked.

“Absolutely,” Laurel said. Why don’t I pick you up at the hospital a little before noon? We can eat nearby.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Laurel.”

“Of course. Try to get some rest, Felicity. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

\-----

At eight-thirty, the same nurse gently kicked Felicity out of her father’s room. Visiting hours had ended a half-hour ago. Walking towards the main entrance, Felicity scrolled to the car service app on her phone. To her dismay, it indicated the closest ride wouldn’t arrive for 20 minutes. She didn’t want to bother Dig or the security team, and there didn’t appear to be any city cabs idling beyond the hospital doors.

Felicity was just about to click “Request,” when she saw Oliver approach from the waiting area. She blinked at him, partially in disbelief; the other part of her not at all surprised to see him.

“Can I drop you at home?” he asked.

“Have you been waiting here all day?”

“Not the entire time. But I figured you wouldn’t leave until they kicked you out,” he answered with a slight shrug. “So. Ride home?” he asked again.

“Ok,” Felicity said. She had no fight left in her after the knocks she’d endured today. Besides, Oliver could have her home before the car service arrived.

They walked through the sliding glass doors together and Oliver observed, “You don’t have a suitcase.”

Felicity absently rambled, “No. I mean, yes. I don’t have my suitcase. Not with me. After he dropped me here, Dig took it to -- to the apartment.” Felicity had almost let slip, “ _our_ apartment,” in reference to the place she and Oliver had once shared.

They’d arrived at his car – a metallic gray coupe. Felicity quirked an eyebrow at Oliver over the sleek machine’s roof, but he didn’t notice. He seemed stuck on her last words.

“You kept it?” he asked.

“Yeah. Dad uses it sometimes for convenience to the office. We also occasionally house visiting clients and executives who are in town for an extended stay,” she said.

A flat “Oh,” was his only comment; his face was unreadable.

A long moment passed. Felicity worked hard to keep impatience and exasperation from creeping into her voice before breaking the silence. “Could we go, please?”

Oliver held her gaze a beat longer, then, without ceremony, he unlocked the doors and slid behind the wheel.

Felicity looked heavenward and exhaled sharply before she pulled the passenger door open and climbed in beside him.

 

Listen to Halsey’s Hold Me Down [here](https://open.spotify.com/album/5OZJflQcQCdZLQjtUudCin).


	3. drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Olicity AU inspired by the Halsey album, Badlands (Deluxe).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter corresponds, in order, to the song tracks on the deluxe version of Halsey's Badlands. However, I’ve changed things up a bit this week and combined tracks 3 and 4 (New Americana and Drive) into one chapter – named for its primary song inspiration. This could happen again down the line, so the final chapter count will come in somewhere under my originally-planned 16.

Felicity stole a glance at Oliver as he maneuvered the car into evening traffic. His eyes were fixed straight ahead – intent on the road or still seemingly lost in thought, Felicity couldn’t tell. Several minutes passed with no words exchanged between them. The only sounds came from the car’s smooth hum as Oliver shifted gears and the faint strains of music from the radio. Oliver’s fingers flexed against the steering wheel, and Felicity’s thoughts drifted to another time when they’d traveled together down a stretch of road.

**_They swapped places behind the wheel throughout that road trip four years ago, but Felicity’s turns never lasted long. When she pointed this out to Oliver, he blamed it on the sight of her hand working the gear shift, her sun-streaked hair dancing in the wind. Before she could ever log significant miles his lips would be on her – traveling from her earlobe down her neck to her collarbone and back again. His fingers would trace a similar pattern up from her bare knee; disappear under her skirt or sundress, and suddenly their immediate destination wasn’t the next coastal tourist town, but a discreet spot off the main road where Felicity would join Oliver in the passenger seat._ **

\-----

“You’re staring, you know.” Oliver’s voice pulled Felicity from her reverie. They were stopped at a red light.

Felicity looked up at Oliver’s face to see him studying her. His eyes held questions, but his mouth was upturned in a small, knowing smile. She flushed and redirected her attention to the view beyond the windshield; fidgeted in her seat. She could still feel his eyes on her.

“Shut up,” she said.

“I didn’t say a word.”

“... Light’s green.”

Oliver drove on. Silence reigned again; this time charged with a tension Felicity was eager to cut. She reached toward the center dash to turn up the radio. Oliver’s hand abruptly twitched in that direction, but stilled as the last chords of “The Man Who Sold the World” filled the space.

It was Felicity’s turn to study Oliver. He shot her a look but didn’t say anything. Felicity sat motionless in anticipation. When the next song began she smiled in recognition and gave her head a slight shake, then lowered the sound again before Biggie finished rapping the first few lines of “Hypnotize.”

“Is this the road trip mix from that summer?”

Oliver lifted his right shoulder in a half shrug. “I got a little nostalgic this afternoon.”

His admission surprised her. She didn’t expect sentimentality, or for him to be so forthcoming. Felicity considered him a moment longer. He seemed to be waiting for her to speak. If she asked him what he was thinking right now, would he tell her? Was today a fluke, or had he thought about her over their years apart? Did he regret walking away when things got hard?

These questions rarely arose for Felicity. On the rare occasion they did it was on lonesome evenings in her Central City townhouse. Nights when she was exhausted and homesick, and allowed herself the space to think back to a time when Oliver was her home.

Ultimately, pride got the better of her, and Felicity opted for a safer question. She’d wondered about it all day, but had decided to wait and ask her dad when the time was right. Curiosity, coupled with some cowardice, made her ask it now.

“Why were you with my dad this morning?”

He was just turning into the expansive circular drive in front of the modern midrise that housed the corporate apartment that was once theirs. Oliver bypassed the residential valet and stopped the car in a space reserved for loading and unloading. He put it in park and turned toward Felicity.

“You know I left Smoak Industries earlier this year?”

Felicity nodded. She hadn’t kept tabs on him, but her position at the company, and Laurel’s unsolicited update, made it impossible for Felicity to avoid that news.

“Well, your father helped me with the transition. We meet sometimes when I need a little business advice.”

“Oh. Dad never said.” Felicity wanted to know more (What kind of business advice? Since when did Oliver ask anyone for help?), but she didn’t ask. She was no longer entitled to those details of his life.

“I asked him not to mention it. I didn’t want you to have to think of me.” Oliver paused and flicked his gaze away before looking back squarely into Felicity’s eyes. “Not if you didn’t want to.”

Felicity held his stare; searched for answers to her unspoken questions. He seemed so open. Earnest, even. Where had that been all those times she’d tried in vain to talk about their mutual unhappiness, only to be met with casual deflections or flat refusals to discuss his feelings?

Oliver must have read her mind again. His expression turned rueful, and he placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry, Felicity.”

Felicity didn’t quite know how to react. Oliver’s hand was warm and more calloused than she remembered. She briefly wondered about that as well, before removing her hand to fumble into her purse for her keys. Not finding them, Felicity scraped around the bottom and pulled out various items to give herself a less obstructed view. She felt Oliver’s hand on her again. He lightly tapped the tiny bottle, wrapped in a tangle of earbuds and hair ties, that she held in her hand.

“Vodka, huh?” he asked with raised eyebrows.

Felicity bristled and pulled away; returning the airplane bottle to her bag’s depths. “Is that judgment?”

“Hardly. I’m just glad to see you stopped drinking the cheap stuff.”

Felicity let that pass without comment. He had always been a vodka snob. She finally located the keys in a side pocket and scooped them into her fist with a triumphant flourish.

She looked over to say goodbye, intent on making a hasty escape before anything else could pass between them, but caught Oliver suppressing a smile. Feeling self-conscious she warily asked, “What?”

“Nothing. Goodnight, Felicity.”

Felicity narrowed her eyes at the amused tone he didn’t bother to conceal. She jerked open her door and placed her right foot on the ground, but caught herself before fully exiting. “Goodnight. Thank you for driving me…and for taking such good care of Dad today.”

As she closed the door, Oliver shifted into drive and said, “He’s proud of you, Felicity. So am I.” Felicity stood unmoving as he gently eased the car away; staring after the rear lights until he was no longer visible.

\-----

Felicity entered the apartment and leaned against the closed door for several minutes. Tonight was the first time she had set foot there since she relocated to Central City. She always stayed at her childhood home with her dad when business brought her to Starling. From her vantage point, Felicity could see the entire living room and out onto the large balcony that overlooked the city, but the only recognizable object in the place was her suitcase, which sat under a marble console table in the entryway. Despite the changes in décor, chosen to well-represent Smoak Industries to visiting guests, Felicity still could see quite clearly the old life she’d lived here. If she wanted to, she could summon the sound of Oliver’s laughter down the hall, or the deafening silence that would settle after she slammed the bedroom door on an argument.

Felicity carried her suitcase to that bedroom now, placed it on the bench at the foot of the bed, and continued on into the bathroom to start the shower. Climbing in, she tried to create order from the chaos that swirled in her mind. In the years she and Oliver had been apart, Felicity had worked hard to convince herself that she felt nothing for him. It was the only way she knew how to push past the suffocating pain and anger she experienced after their breakup, and also drown out the echoes of their happier times. She had held tightly to all of the ways Oliver had failed her in the waning days of their relationship.

**_Her promotion to the Applied Sciences Division couldn’t have come at a more inopportune time. They were both succeeding in their respective roles, but Oliver was ambivalent about becoming more entrenched in the company. He was skilled in finance, respected amongst his peers, but grew increasingly dissatisfied and frustrated with his job’s travel demands and late hours. Felicity’s schedule was equally taxing, and they did a poor job of prioritizing their relationship._ **

**_“Felicity, tomorrow is the first night in weeks we’ll both make it home before eight, and you’re telling me we have to spend the evening at a cocktail party to celebrate some new acquisition?”_ **

**_"You closed that deal. The only reason it’s even on my calendar is because I thought you had to be there. And now I’m locked in because I suggested it’d be a good opportunity to bolster our relationship with the reps from our Russian subsidiary. Suck it up, Oliver. We’re going.”_ **

**_When the time came for her to make a decision about the potential move, their discussions quickly escalated from mild disagreements to full-on shouting matches, and the distance between them grew._ **

**_After a particularly brutal round, Felicity had left for Central City to tour the new facility and meet the personnel. She and Oliver spoke on the phone during her three days away, exchanging apologies, pledging to mend things properly when she returned, and vowing to move forward together. When she arrived home, she found his closet empty._ **

**_For a week Oliver dodged her phone calls and avoided her at the office. Felicity sent him text messages and left voicemails that ranged from contrite and worried to furious and threatening. A casual inquiry to his assistant confirmed he was alive and well – as opposed to lying dead somewhere. Laurel was able to suss out that he was staying with his best friend, Tommy Merlyn._ **

**_On the eighth day Felicity made a decision. She was halfway to Tommy’s when she realized she was finished. If that was how Oliver had chosen to end their three year relationship, what was she even fighting for? Who was she fighting for? Felicity turned her car around, accepted her promotion, and packed her things. By week’s end, she was living in Central City._ **

The sting of his actions was gone now, and Felicity had admitted to herself the role she had played in their undoing. The responsibility didn’t rest solely with Oliver; she had failed him in equal measure. But no matter how well Felicity understood this on an intellectual level, the breakup had carved a hollow into her chest. And just as she was learning to live with that emptiness, Oliver had reentered her life.

Felicity toweled her hair dry and replayed tonight’s car ride. Oliver had apologized, but for what exactly? Shuttering his emotions? Withdrawing his love and support when she needed it? Felicity had done well in Central City. She threw herself into the professional challenges there and achieved new levels of success that earned her a seat on the board. She’d made some good friends. However, it hadn’t been easy. She doubted herself along the way, and a small part of her sometimes imagined what things would be like if Oliver were by her side – the Oliver to whom she’d given her heart; not the one who had broken it.

**_“C’mere,” Oliver murmured, reaching for her across the mattress. Felicity rolled into his touch and came to rest on her right side, her chest flush against his. His eyes were still closed._ **

**_"Sorry,” she whispered into his shoulder. It was late. Felicity had tossed and turned since finally joining him in bed an hour ago. She couldn’t quiet her mind, and that quad-shot latte she drank that afternoon wasn’t helping matters. Oliver slid his leg over hers, effectively stopping their restless jangling._ **

**_“Sorry,” she said again. “I just can’t relax. There’s too much at stake with this applied sciences division Dad wants to reestablish. Maybe I should go back to the office and get a jump on today.”_ **

**_"No, you’re exhausted.” Oliver splayed his hand across her back and ran it up and down the length of her spine. He dropped a soft kiss to her hairline and yawned, “Stay. Love you.”_ **

**_Felicity felt his body sink deeper into sleep and she smiled. She concentrated on his breathing, the gentle thrum of his heartbeat, his reassuring bulk surrounding her. She snuggled closer and finally drifted into a dreamless sleep._ **

Felicity had made her way back into the bedroom and stood before her open suitcase, contemplating her pajamas. She should sleep, but how could she with thoughts of various incarnations of Oliver Queen ricocheting around in her head? The one she met today had looked at her with such openness. He had waited with her father. He had waited for her. But what did any of it mean? Felicity could stay up all night analyzing every moment they’d shared today and never know. “ _Enough_.” She had to get out of the apartment. Its silent collection of rooms held too many cacophonous memories.

There was a wine bar down the block and half a dozen restaurants two streets over, but Felicity didn’t want to run the risk of encountering anyone she knew from the neighborhood. She quickly dressed and went downstairs to hail a cab.

“Could you take me to the Glades, please?”

\-----

Listen to Halsey’s New Americana and Drive [here ](https://open.spotify.com/album/5OZJflQcQCdZLQjtUudCin)


	4. hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Olicity AU inspired by the Halsey album, Badlands (Deluxe).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter corresponds, in order, to the song tracks on the deluxe version of Halsey's Badlands. 
> 
> I want to sincerely thank everyone who has taken the time to leave a comment or kudos on this story. It has become a true labor of love, and I cannot adequately express how much it means to me that any one person is enjoying it. Thank you so much.

_**Oliver’s leaving was like a gut punch. Felicity returned from her Central City trip eager to work on their problems. Their phone calls had assured her Oliver was ready to do the same.** _

_**“I was an asshole, Felicity. I should’ve just come with you.”** _

_**“No, it’s my fault. I was nervous and snapping at you. It wasn’t exactly a warm invitation. It’s long days with these lab tours and meetings anyway.”** _

_**“Still. I shouldn’t’ve pushed you to make a decision. You can’t know yet. And we’ll be fine whatever you decide about this job. I’m sorry.”** _

_**“ I’m sorry. I love you, Oliver. This is all such a big step, and I don’t want to screw it up or disappoint anybody.” ** _

_**“I love you too. And you won’t disappoint anyone. You’ve got this.”** _

_**“Let’s take a long weekend when I get back? I miss you. It feels like ages since we played hooky or spent a lazy Saturday in bed.”** _

_**“How exactly do you imagine we’ll pass the time in bed on Saturday? Because I remember quite clearly the last time we did that and ‘lazy’ is not the word I’d use to describe it.” ** _

_**“It’s not?”** _

_**“No. ‘Athletic’ seems more accurate.”** _

_**“Oh my god, you’re the worst.”** _

_**“See, I’m pretty sure I’m the best. Pretty sure you said so, Felicity. Several times that weekend.” ** _

_**"Whatever. I'll see you soon."** _

**_To come home and find him suddenly gone and unwilling to communicate with her was a betrayal she never could have imagined. When the fog of disbelief cleared, Felicity grasped for answers that were at once elusive and plainly obvious. She could no longer place her faith in the Oliver she thought she knew, or trust the sincerity of the final words they shared; his cold abandonment ensured that. So she cast him in the villain’s role, recalled only the worst of his qualities, and spared his memory no contempt._ **

**_He was an asshole. And a liar. Callous with his disregard for her feelings; his indifference to the pain and humiliation he willfully caused. And a coward for giving up on them. That realization is what made Felicity turn her car around the morning she intended to confront him at Tommy’s. It had been eight days of radio silence. Eight days of Oliver refusing to fight for their relationship. Felicity couldn’t do it alone, and that day in the car she understood she was tired of trying._ **

\-----

**_For a time, Felicity channeled this resentment into her work. At 24, she was Smoak Industries’ youngest division head by at least 15 years. Her entire academic career at MIT she’d faced critics who doubted her abilities based on preconceived notions about her age and sex. When she joined the family business fresh out of grad school, she also combated accusations of nepotism. At every stage, Felicity worked hard to demonstrate her capabilities, prove her achievements well-earned, and make her value evident. Gaining the respect of many classmates, professors, colleagues, and mentors helped instill in her the self-confidence to meet opportunity, but Felicity remained mindful of her limitations. On the day she accepted her promotion, she knew she wasn’t 100% ready for the role. But she also knew she was ready for the challenge and prepared to put in the hard work necessary to excel._ **

**_That drive for excellence kept her busy during her first few months in Central City. Those early days were a blur of lab visits and meetings designed to get her up-to-speed on the projects in development at Applied Sciences. She marveled at the brilliant minds at work there and thrilled at each new reminder that she could contribute to their efforts. Sometimes the reality that she was the boss – and therefore responsible for and accountable to the individuals who were changing the world through scientific and technological discovery – struck her as surreal. The job was equal parts overwhelming and exhilarating, and there were times when she felt completely unqualified. Nevertheless, she set a relentless pace._ **

**_Felicity was the first executive to arrive at the office and the last to leave. She studied up on aspects of physics, robotics, and molecular biology that she didn’t quite understand, and encouraged her team leaders to brief her on projects in greater detail so she could make well-informed decisions about resource allocation and advocate for increased support where needed. Steadily, she earned a reputation for her creative problem solving and hands-on management approach. Her comprehensive understanding of the division would help Smoak Industries grow their government and overseas contracts in her second year of leadership. A seat on the board of directors would soon follow. Whenever anyone asked where she found the energy, she would just raise her ever-present coffee mug and smile. No one, not even Laurel or her father, knew that she was fueled by deep reserves of anger and despair. No one knew just how tightly Felicity clung to her work to avoid reflecting on the past._ **

**_But as the pressure lessened and she established routines and relaxed into her new role, Felicity encountered idle moments where her thoughts would run to Oliver. While wandering the grocery aisles or washing dishes, she would miss him. She would miss the easy domesticity they’d shared, and her anger took on a tinge of sadness._ **

\-----

**_Immediately after the break up, Felicity had unfollowed him on social media and removed every photographic trace of him from her phone and computer. All digital evidence of Oliver Queen now lived on a flash drive she kept buried in the back of a kitchen drawer. Printed photos, letters, and keepsakes were banished to a box shoved deep into her closet. More than once Felicity thought about setting fire to the lot of it for dramatic effect. She came close to doing just that one evening – drunk on white wine and repeat listens to Adele’s 21._ **

**_Instead, she re-read old love notes, checked his Instagram account, and cried herself to sleep after drafting him an email. She got as far as, “I miss you. I miss your face,” before fear sliced through the alcohol haze and stopped her. What if he responded? What if he didn’t? Felicity wouldn’t be able to take another rejection from him. She deleted the draft and took her wine bottle to bed. Oliver hadn’t returned any of her calls or texts that agonizing week. He hadn’t reached out after she left Starling. He was an asshole and a liar and a coward. But she still loved him. So what did that make her? Besides alone in a new city without him?_ **

**_Felicity knew Laurel was worried that she’d become too isolated, and frequently insisted Felicity talk to her about how she was feeling. Felicity wanted to confide in her friend about what was surely a mild depression, but resisted talking about things in much detail. The move to Central City was supposed to be a clean slate, and there wasn’t much else to say. The person to whom she had given her whole self had discarded her. Talking about it, speculating further about what could have been, just made her feel the loss more acutely. It made her more vulnerable to the pain. She thought it would be easier to shut it out._ **

**_Her dad was equally concerned, but adopted a more tentative approach._ **

**_“How are you?”_ **

**_“Well, the project manager on the bioremediation --”_ **

**_“No, Felicity. How are you?"_ **

**_“Dad, I’m fine. Really.”_ **

**_“You’d tell me if you weren’t?”_ **

**_“Yes, I promise. I’m fine. Just a little run-down. I’ll be home next week. Any tips for my first presentation to the board?” _ **

**_“You know what you’re doing. You’ll be great. Now get some rest.”_ **

**_“I will. Love you, Dad.”_ **

**_“I love you, sweet girl.”_ **

**_William Smoak was no fool, and Felicity wasn’t under the delusion her assurances saved him an ounce of worry. She did feel guilty that their chats no longer included animated accounts of weekend activities with friends. Guiltier still that she didn’t call him as frequently as she should to make up for the 600-mile distance that drastically diminished their quality time. The best Felicity could muster was to ask him about whatever historical fiction novel he was currently reading, admonish him for grumbling about Raisa’s insistence on serving healthier meals, and send him cheerful emoji with a promise to call back soon when she couldn’t bear to answer his calls with a feigned sunny disposition._ **

**_The controlled grip she tried to maintain on her emotions began to slip late into her first year in Central City. One night the air in her townhouse felt so thick with grief and self-loathing, Felicity knew she’d suffocate under the weight of it. She had to get out.With the taste of liquor on her lips, she left home intent on embracing her anonymity in the city to which she didn’t yet belong._ **

**_She found a dark club where she faded into the crowd and roamed the edges of the dance floor. She watched strangers drink and move to a steady, driving beat that eventually lured her into the throng. She gave herself over to the sound; the bass reverberating through her body and mingling with the alcohol that coursed in her bloodstream. That night Felicity moved with a deliberate intensity that silenced the whisper of Oliver’s voice in her ear. The next morning she awoke in bed exhausted, but relieved to have quelled the tempest that had been brewing inside her._ **

**_For several weeks she repeated the pattern, never talking to anyone, occasionally allowing a man to join her for a dance, but nothing more. That boundary didn’t need to be verbalized. Felicity could communicate it with just one look; revealing what felt like lightning flashing in her eyes. Sometimes she heard Laurel’s voice in her head, “Felicity, this is a poor substitute for sex.” She couldn’t disagree; it was. But Felicity wasn’t ready to get close to anyone, not even for a night of nameless sex._ **

\-----

The Starling City cab driver gave Felicity a curious once-over when she requested he take her to the Glades, but made no comment. She wasn’t surprised at his reaction. For years the area was known for little more than abandoned industrial buildings bordered by a few rough neighborhoods. Prostitution and drug activity were common. However, Felicity had read that a handful of bars and clubs recently opened along Water Street, which made the Glades the perfect place for her to grab a quick drink and get a little lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces. She doubted anyone she knew would frequent those spots. It had been nearly a year since she felt the need to disappear into a crowd. Today’s barrage of memories didn’t threaten to consume her the way they might have at her lowest point, but Felicity did feel a restlessness she would rather not sit with tonight – alone in that apartment.

She asked the cabbie to let her out in front of a well-lit bar. It was a gorgeous brick structure Felicity was certain must have some historical significance. Inside the lights were dimmer and warm; the sound of friendly chatter and clinking glasses inviting. The place was packed, and vibing with an easy energy that instantly lifted her mood. Felicity moved into the group gathered around the expansive wood bar and took in the surroundings as she waited for her opportunity to attract a bartender’s attention.

Behind the bar, glassware sat on open shelves that showcased exposed brick. Opposite the bar space, deep banquettes in oxblood leather lined the walls; the accompanying wood and metal tables laden with craft cocktails, longneck beers, and snacks. A more intimate seating area sat on a rug near a dartboard where a spirited, seemingly high-stakes, game was in session. Beyond the main room, Felicity spied a short corridor that lead out to an enclosed patio strung with lights. A server swept in through the door just then, briefly carrying with her strains of alt-pop music. Felicity assumed there must be a dance floor outside, but focused instead on the mellower, almost jazzy tunes piping in from the speakers above her. She swayed along with the music and slowly made her way to the front of the queue. A young couple vacated two barstools just as she stepped up, and Felicity snagged a seat. Situating her bag on a hook hanging from the bar’s lip, she leaned on her forearms and smiled at the approaching bartender.

“Hi, welcome to Verdant,” he smiled in return, and placed a napkin in front of Felicity. He then immediately topped it with a cocktail garnished with mint and lime.

“What’s this?”

“Moscow mule. And your tab’s already covered.”

“Wait, _what_?”

The bartender grinned, gestured to the left with his chin, and moved on to serve the next customer.

Felicity snapped her head in that direction and swore under her breath, “You can’t be fucking serious.” There was Oliver, standing at the end of the bar near the front door, and looking right at her.

Leaving her drink untouched, Felicity jumped down from her stool, grabbed her bag and charged straight for him. “Jesus, Oliver. What? Did you follow me here? Are you insane!?”

Oliver startled and looked around the room. He wrapped his hand around Felicity’s elbow and steered her outside to the empty sidewalk. She yanked free and rounded on him again. “You have _got_ to be _kidding me_!” she shouted, poking him in the chest with her index fingers for emphasis. “What could you possibly be doing here?”

“Felicity, wait. _Stop_.” He took her hands in his own to stop her assault. “I own this place. Verdant. It’s my bar. I thought…” Oliver trailed off and looked down at their hands. He let go of her and took a step back. “I thought you came here tonight to see me.”

Felicity stood silent and still, looking at Oliver for what felt like an eternity. She finally broke the silence with a disbelieving snort of laughter and stalked up the sidewalk away from him and in search of a cab.

“Of course. _Of course_. Of all the bars in this town…I don’t hear anything from him in two years and suddenly, _poof_! He’s everywhere. With rides and drinks and a freakin’ hipster bar. This is incredible.” Felicity abruptly ended her rant when she realized she was headed away from the main road and not very likely to find a cab coming from that direction. She turned back to reluctantly return to Verdant.

Oliver was standing stock-still where she had left him. He was bathed in lamplight and staring at her, his expression laced with hurt and apprehension. The sight of him broke loose something deep inside Felicity.

Her shoulders slumped and tears flowed hot and fast down her cheeks. God, why was he everywhere? She didn’t know how to do this. Then, in an instant, Oliver truly _was_ everywhere; enveloping her in an embrace then gently wiping her tears with the rough pads of his thumbs.

“Don’t cry, Felicity. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pulled her close again and continued to whisper soft reassurances. Sobbing while pressed against his chest Felicity could feel more than hear his words. With a final shuddering breath her tears subsided, and soon all she could hear was the sound of their hearts beating. After a long moment Oliver withdrew, but kept one large hand spread across her back. With his other hand, he smoothed aside the flyaway hairs that had escaped her ponytail. “Tell me what you need.”

Felicity studied his face. His eyebrows were knitted together in concern. His lashes, long and dark, framed eyes that were still the clearest blue she had ever seen. She surged upward onto her tiptoes and kissed him. Oliver tensed against her briefly before tightening his hold on her and opening his mouth to her kiss. He tasted like spearmint, red wine, and Oliver. Felicity drew his lower lip between her teeth and bit down softly. He groaned and broke their kiss, breathing heavily. He rested his forehead to hers and whispered, “My god, Felicity.”

Felicity reached up and dragged her nails through his cheek stubble. Oliver pulled back and looked down at her with hooded eyes, his pupils so enlarged she could barely make out his irises. She kissed him again and murmured against his lips, “Oliver. Take me home.”

\-----

**Listen to Halsey’s Hurricane[here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xe08p-6RRFU)**


	5. roman holiday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An Olicity AU inspired by the Halsey album, Badlands (Deluxe).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter corresponds, in order, to the song tracks on the deluxe version of Halsey's Badlands.

Oliver leaned forward on one elbow and tiredly ran his hand down his face. He’d been staring at the same invoice for the past ten minutes but had no idea why he had picked it up in the first place. He couldn’t focus on anything. Not with Bill Smoak in the hospital and the scent of his daughter’s perfume lingering in Oliver’s car.

“Felicity,” he sighed. How many times had he spoken her name aloud today? It had to be an embarrassingly large number. For close to two years Oliver had kept the word from crossing his lips. Once he’d even referred to her as “Ms. Smoak” when she came up as a topic of conversation at Smoak Industries, and he couldn’t get away with pronouns and vague descriptors. The woman who’d shared his bed. _Ms. Smoak_. For a time this absurd practice was a necessary form of self-preservation.

Her name was an invocation that could suspend him in a time and place that no longer existed. A blissful place he had helped condemn to rot and ruin when he – with no sense of where he was running to – fled at the first sign of trouble. It had taken Oliver a long time to let go of his wounded pride and admit to himself just how much he’d fucked things up with her, and longer still to release himself from the twisted kind of torture he experienced by dwelling on his failings and how he should have made things right. Eventually, the best he could do was hope she was doing okay and tuck away the memory of them with other things lost and lamented.

But seeing her today had opened the floodgates. Her name was the only word he wanted on his tongue, and he couldn’t help but repeat it like a prayer he offered in confession ( _I’m sorry, Felicity_ ) or praise ( _He’s proud of you, Felicity, so am I_ ).

\-----

“Hey, boss?” Oliver looked up to see Cat, one of his bartenders, leaning into his office by the door jambs. “Can you give Tim a hand out here? We’re slammed and down a bar-back tonight.”

“Sure. You doing okay?”

“Yeah, we just had a 12-top walk in. I can spell you once I get them settled outside. Thank you!” She was gone as quickly as she’d appeared. Oliver grinned at her energy and efficiency. It might be time to bump her up to assistant manager.

He joined Tim and got to work mixing drinks and pulling pints. They were doing nice business for a Wednesday night, and Oliver was happy to see a few regulars in the crowd. In particular there was Paul over at the dartboard with his buddies, who caught Oliver’s attention with a raise of his glass and an approving nod. Two weeks ago Oliver had special-ordered a small batch whiskey at Paul’s request, and it looked like the group was making their way through it at a nice pace. Oliver lifted his chin and smiled in response, then moved down the bar to answer some questions about the wine list. When Cat returned, he cut a fresh batch of limes, bussed some tables out on the patio, and took two trips down to the basement to tap new kegs. The manual labor was a welcome break from paperwork, and being in the thick of it – out front where the bar was bustling with patrons and his staff – was a gratifying reminder that his risk in leaving Smoak Industries had paid off. Professionally, he hadn’t been this happy in years.

_**Oliver stood with three junior members of his team half-listening to their animated discussion about…ultimate frisbee? Yeah. They were talking about ultimate frisbee. He impatiently glanced at his watch and excused himself to the bar for a refill. Felicity had dragged him to this cocktail reception for the Stellmor deal, and almost immediately he’d lost her to a group of visiting Russian industrialists. Normally this wouldn’t have bothered him. In their nearly three years together, he and Felicity had attended a hundred office gatherings and society events and were adept at the kind of divide-and-conquer charm offensive sometimes required to work a room. Felicity, of course, had been born to it; he’d had to hone the skill over the years, helped a little by natural charisma and a genuine fondness for people.** _

_**Lately, however, he found it increasingly difficult to find the energy for small talk with strangers and after-hours socializing with colleagues. It had been a long day, an even longer week, and all Oliver wanted to do was spend a quiet night at home with Felicity. He’d grumbled about coming tonight, but she was adamant, and it was easier to give in than provoke an argument. The car ride over was a little tense, but Felicity had held his hand as they entered the restaurant and said, “One hour max, Oliver. Then it’s back home for pajamas and take-out from Jade Dragon. I swear.”** _

_**By his count, her promise was two hours old and three drinks deep. “Vodka, please? Neat.” Four drinks. Oliver leaned against the bar. Why was he still here? Not just at this party, but at Smoak Industries. The work was fine and plenty lucrative. He was good at it. But he’d never gotten any real joy from shaping a merger or acquiring a new subsidiary; nothing beyond the general satisfaction of meeting a challenge. His plan had always been to put in enough time with the company to pay off his student loans and help his mom finally get out of that crummy one-bedroom apartment in Vegas. Oliver thought he’d burst with excitement the Christmas morning he watched her unwrap a box containing the local paper’s real estate section, with several listings circled in pen. It took a minute for her to understand its meaning, but once she did and he explained that he wanted to give her the down payment for any house she wanted, his mom had hugged him tightly and whispered that she couldn’t be prouder of him.** _

_**That was two years ago, his debts had been settled, and yet Oliver was creeping up on his sixth year at SI. If he weren’t careful, another six would pass in no time, and he’d find himself buried deeper within the company. The thought had him subconsciously loosening his tie. He sipped from his glass and surveyed the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Felicity. Her red dress shouldn’t be this hard to find in the sea of navy, black, and gray.** _

_**His search was interrupted by Malcolm Merlyn. “Congratulations. I hear you did an impressive job on this deal.”** _

_**Oliver shook Malcolm’s hand, “Thank you, Sir. It was a group effor--”  
** _

_**"Of course, it doesn’t hurt that you’re seeing the boss’s daughter. Tommy says you and Felicity have just moved in together. Her place, I assume.”** _

_**Oliver’s polite smile faded and he tightened his grip. He doubted Malcolm learned this from Tommy; the two weren’t close, and when they did speak their conversations usually centered on Malcolm’s disappointment with his son and ended with threats to amend the terms of Tommy’s trust fund.** _

_**“That’s right, about six months ago.”** _

_**“Well, make sure you can keep up. Dynasties rise and fall on the strength of strategic marriage. Felicity is unlikely to make just anyone her Mr. Smoak.” Malcolm had met Oliver’s grip with a firm grasp of his own and didn’t seem willing to pull away first – a physical challenge to match his verbal one. “And here she is! Felicity, we were just talking about you. Can I get you a drink?”** _

_**“No, thank you.” Felicity drew close to Oliver’s side and looked up at him with her eyebrows raised. He released Malcolm and took a step back, placed his hands in his pockets. “We should be going. Also, Malcolm, I think my father’s looking for you.”** _

_**“And I wouldn’t want to keep him waiting. Very nice to see you both.” Malcolm flashed them a broad smile. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”** _

_**“What was that all about?” Felicity placed her hand on Oliver’s forearm, her eyes tracking Malcolm until he disappeared into the crowd. Oliver shrugged out of her reach. “Hey. Are you okay?”** _

_**“Fine. Nothing. Can we finally just get the hell out of here?” Oliver downed the rest of his drink and strode towards the door without waiting for her answer.** _

_**He knew he was in for it when Felicity caught up with him at the valet stand and intercepted the keys from the attendant with a curt, “You’ve been drinking,” tossed in Oliver’s direction. She didn’t speak again until she was navigating their way out of the parking lot. “Look, I’m sorry that went so long, but that doesn’t mean you have to be such an ass about it. And seriously, what was that back there with Malcolm? It looked pretty intense.”** _

_**Oliver sighed, “Don’t worry about it. Just Merlyn offering congratulations with a heavy dose of condescension. It’s fine. Are we getting dinner or what? I’m starving.” ** _

_**“Yeah, and clearly cranky about it. Why didn’t you eat something back there to tide you over? They were passing hors d'oeuvres; you couldn’t snag a crab puff?”** _

_**“Are you going to keep asking me stupid questions or let me call in the food? We should have been home by now.” Oliver was trying to concentrate on finding the number in his phone, but he didn’t miss Felicity’s offended scoff or the way her eyes narrowed behind her glasses before she turned away to focus on the road. As he dialed Jade Dragon, he had no doubt she was cursing him in her head.** _

_**For the rest of the night the only words they exchanged were, “Pass the eggrolls,” and “Why’d you hide the Sriracha way back in the pantry?”** _

_**Oliver never shared Malcolm’s comments with Felicity. He tried to convince himself there was no point upsetting her with unwelcome opinions about their relationship, but the hard truth was that some of what Malcolm said touched a nerve, and he didn’t know how to talk to her about it. Plus, he was embarrassed that he’d let Malcolm get to him.** _

 

> _**When Oliver had asked Felicity on their first date, he hadn’t even known her name. He had only known that he had to get to know the disarmingly adorable girl who’d gotten to work repairing his laptop before he could stumble his way through a description of what he thought might be wrong with it. He’d watched, amazed, as her cherry red nails flew across his keyboard; barely hearing the computer babble that tumbled from lips painted to match. She’d answered his blurted, “Have dinner with me tonight?” with a deep flush, huge smile, and a nod, before going back to her explanation of VPN connectivity.** _
> 
> _**By the time he’d learned over pasta that new IT girl Felicity was Felicity Smoak, genius with a recent master’s degree in Cyber Security and Computer Sciences and the only child of William Smoak, Oliver was already gone for her. The realization that he was out with the CEO’s daughter had been initially shocking, but ultimately didn’t matter all that much. Oliver didn’t aspire to corner-office glory, his work in the finance division wasn’t of particular interest to Felicity and barely factored into their relationship, and Bill (as he insisted Oliver call him) only seemed to care whether Oliver was a good man who made his daughter happy.** _

_**A couple of years ago Oliver would have shrugged off Malcolm’s words. But now, with both of their jobs demanding more time and attention, Oliver couldn’t avoid questioning just how big a role the company played in his and Felicity’s life together, and the decisions they made about their relationship. From day one with her, the personal and professional were linked, but now the connection seemed tangled and complicated. And as Oliver became more and more dissatisfied with his work, he started to lump Felicity in with his growing unhappiness.** _

\-----

**_On a Saturday morning a few weeks after the Stellmor party, Oliver stood exhausted at his sink. He had returned last night from a last-minute trip to Gotham and hadn’t shaken off the late flight or the bad meeting that preceded it. He was trimming his beard when Felicity came swinging into the bathroom._ **

**_“Hey, Laurel wants to know if we want to grab lunch and a movie later.”_ **

**_Oliver swore and dropped his razor. “Dammit!”_ **

**_“Oh! Sorry!” She hopped onto the counter and peered up at him. “Is it bad?”_ **

**_Oliver held a tissue to the oozing cut just above his Adam’s apple. “Well, it’s not good.”_ **

**_“I’m sure you’ll live. You’re not shaving that off are you? You know I like my men all scruffy. Rugged.” Felicity settled back and slid her bare foot up along the inseam of his sweatpants. She smiled at him playfully._ **

**_Oliver stepped away from her and wiped traces of shaving cream from his face and neck. He wasn’t in the mood. “Any more rules about my appearance I need to know about?” he asked, before padding into their bedroom. Snatching a t-shirt from the armchair, he pulled it over his head and continued out and down the hall towards the kitchen – towards the coffee. Closing the refrigerator door with milk in hand, he found Felicity standing at his elbow. For the second time that morning Oliver jumped, but made no comment. He just scowled at her, sat down at the table, and pulled up last night’s baseball highlights on his phone. When he lifted the mug to take his first sip of coffee, he noticed Felicity hadn’t moved from her spot near the fridge._ **

**_“What?”_ **

**_“This is childish, Oliver. What’s going on with you?”_ **

**_"I’m childish? You’re the one standing there pouting because you’re not getting your way. I’m tired, Felicity. I just got home; you’re all over me. And no, I don’t want to hang out with Laurel today. You two have fun.”_ **

**_“Okay, no. You’re not doing this.”_ **

**_“Doing what?”_**

**_"This whole elusive, snappy, dismissive thing. You’ve been doing it for weeks, and I’m done trying to be patient.”_ **

**_Oliver snorted into his coffee mug. “Every day you’re nagging me about something, but okay, we’ll call that ‘patient.’”_ **

**_“Don’t laugh at me, Oliver. And don’t dismiss me. I know something is wrong, and I just want to help you with it. But go ahead, reduce me to a cliché. Not a surprise since you’re being one yourself. Broody asshole.”_ **

**_He barely caught her last comment. She’d mumbled it as she turned away to put her own mug in the dishwasher. Oliver couldn’t blame her though; she had him pegged. He was thinking about apologizing – maybe dialing back the asshole – when she closed the dishwasher and turned to leave the kitchen. “You know, I really thought we could have a fun day with friends and spend tonight talking before I have to leave tomorrow. But it’s fine, we can just skip it. Maybe by the time I get back next week, you’ll have pulled your head out of your ass long enough to talk to me. Don’t leave the milk out.”_ **

**_God, she knew how to manipulate him. He was trying to work out how she managed to guilt and bait him all in one breath, when he realized what she’d said._ **

**_“Next week? Where are you going?”_ **

**_She was already halfway through the living room, but stopped and spun around. “Oliver! It’s my Central City trip. Meeting a bunch of the project managers? I’m going to have to make a decision about this job really soon! Did you seriously forget about this?”_ **

**_He hadn’t forgotten so much as blocked it out. For weeks he’d avoided having a real discussion with her about this. To him it was this massive cloud hanging over their relationship. Of course she should take it. Working with her father these last 18 months to establish the new division had made Felicity tremendously happy, and it would be stupid of her to turn down the opportunity to run it. But for whatever reason, she hadn’t accepted yet, and Oliver felt locked with her in an endless loop as she considered the offer and asked his opinion at various points along the way. He’d stayed noncommittal – wary that any doubts he voiced might hold her back, but not willing to give her the push that would end in a move to Central City and make him face his own ambivalence about his work at Smoak Industries. Now that it seemed like her time was finally up, he was impatient for the outcome – any outcome._ **

**_“I don’t know why you’re dragging out the decision. This job is basically your birthright. Why not accept and be done?”_ **

**_Felicity flinched like he’d hit her across the face. She walked back toward him, but stopped at the edge of the kitchen. “ What?” _ **

**_“I don’t understand your hesitation here. It’s all yours for the taking. So just take it.” Oliver shrugged and looked back at his phone. The Sentinels were home again tonight after their latest series win._ **

**_“Are you implying that Dad is simply handing me this job?! Oliver, you know that I haven’t accepted anything from him, not one dime from my father, since the day I graduated!” _ **

**_Without looking up, Oliver gestured around them. “What do you call all of this?”_ **

**_“What, the apartment? It was a gift! And how is that any different than you buying your mom’s place?”_ **

**_Oliver raised his eyes and leveled a glare on her. “You know that’s different.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off, held his hands up in front of his chest in a surrender pose. “But you know what, forget it. I don’t want to have this fight today.”_ **

**_Felicity pursed her lips and exhaled slowly through her nose. “Oliver, I don’t want to fight at all. I just…I just want to be able to talk to you about this. But whenever I bring it up, all you ever say is, ‘It’s your decision, Felicity. Whatever makes you happy.’ What am I supposed to do with that?”_ **

**_“Well, it is your decision, Felicity.”_ **

**_In three quick steps she was right there next to him, invading his personal space. “No, Oliver. It’s our decision. We’ve been together for three years. We’re living together. Are you telling me you have no opinion about this? This would be a major move.”_ **

**_Oliver leaned back in his chair. “You don’t think I know that?” His voice had dropped an octave and he felt the muscles in his shoulders begin to tense._ **

**_“No, what I think is that you’re in the middle of some kind of quarter-life crisis, and rather than talk to me about it, you’d rather withdraw. But we have some very real decisions to make. If this happens, do you even want to move to Central City? Is this your way of saying you wanna do this long distance so you don’t have to transfer? The company--”_ **

**_Oliver roughly pushed away from the table and stood up. “Felicity, I don’t know, okay?! I cannot have this conversation right now. All we ever do is talk about the company and the latest impact it has on our every waking moment. Do you realize that everyone we know is somehow connected to SI?! We go out with friends for a ‘fun night’ and we talk about the office. My entire life now revolves around that place, and it’s like I can’t make a move or take one breath without it being about the company. The goddamn pillowcases might as well be embossed with the corporate logo.”_ **

**_Felicity stared at him for several seconds with her jaw hanging open in surprise. She then fixed him with an impatient look that was a little bit high-and-mighty and said, “Oliver, if you want to leave Smoak Industries, just do it! Who’s stopping you? Figure out what you want to do and just do it.” _ **

**_Now it was his turn to flinch. He’d been working since he was 15 years old, had lived and died by his performance at SI since 22, and was now feeling trapped there. Barely able to sort out his feelings and manage her expectations. He’d finally taken a stab at giving a name to his fears and sharing them with her, and this was her response? It sounded like she even knew the worries that had been eating at him all this time. But if that were true, how could she be so dismissive?_ **

**_But then it hit him: Of course she could. Felicity had always had the luxury to decide what she wanted to do instead of being forced to do what had to be done. He’d never had that option before, and was now paralyzed by choice. This was a big difference between them. It’s maybe what made her own indecision so frustrating. It felt false to him – dramatic and unnecessary._ **

**_“Felicity, just take the job. You’re going to do it anyway; stop pretending you give a shit about what I think.”_ **

**_Throughout their whole argument her body had been tense, but at his last words, Felicity seemed to deflate – but only for a second. Blinking rapidly, her blue eyes shining with fury and tears she probably refused to shed, she said, quietly, “You know what? Fuck you. I was going to suggest you maybe come with me tomorrow and we try to make a getaway out of this trip. But if you’re just going to…forget it. I’m better off going alone. You obviously have no interest or stake in any of this.”_ **

**_She turned her back on him and left the room. A few beats later their bedroom door slammed._ **

**_Oliver picked up his mug and tossed his coffee into the sink. He grabbed a banana from the counter. Five minutes later – laced into his sneakers, gym bag on his shoulder – he quietly left the apartment._ **

\-----

**_She was gone when he got home from the gym two hours later. Around ten, she texted to say she was staying over at Laurel’s and would leave for Central City first thing in the morning. He texted back, “Have a safe trip.”_ **

**_After a full 36 hours without her, Oliver picked up the phone. He apologized – they both did – and admitted that he’d been an asshole. If she felt like she wasn’t ready to make a decision yet, that was completely her call. When they hung up, he felt like a weight had been lifted. They would take the time to talk it through together. He realized that she wanted him as a partner in this; was asking for his help to make sure it was the right step for the both of them, and he should be right there with her – proud to be there with her. Walking into their building that night, Oliver thought back on their phone conversation and smiled. It felt nice to be playful with each other again. He’d missed that, missed her. He was almost at the elevator – already making plans for that sexy Saturday he promised – when Mike, the weeknight concierge, came out from behind his desk._ **

**_“Mr. Queen? These papers were just messengered over.”_ **

**_“Thanks, Mike.” Oliver had an early breakfast meeting the next day; these must be the draft quarterlies. Walter insisted on making all of his notations by hand, and last year Oliver decided to save everyone the headache of scanning and rescanning reams of paper as they went through multiple drafts. It was easier to just pass a hard copy of Walter’s edits while they worked on the document._ **

**_Upstairs Oliver shrugged out of his suit jacket and grabbed a beer, then opened the accordion file. Flipping through the pages, he realized that he wasn’t looking at Walter’s notes. It was an employment contract. And behind it, several glossy real estate look-books with a note from Felicity’s assistant: “Take a look at these. I think you might like them, and find them suitable to your needs.”_ **

**_An employment contract for the Smoak Industries Applied Sciences Division, flagged in several places for the signature and initials of Ms. Felicity Megan Smoak. Listings for condos and townhouses in Central City._ **

**_Oliver flipped through everything again, nodding and sipping his beer. When the bottle was empty, he returned the documents to their file and put them on the kitchen counter. He looked around the apartment; looked at the furniture and appliances, the art on the walls. Almost nothing in these rooms was his. He’d moved in there with not much more than his clothes, a dozen or so cartons with books and personal stuff, and the belief that he was coming home. That she was his home._ **

**_She was due back here tomorrow night. He could be out by then. It was clear she knew exactly what she wanted to do – was already putting all of the pieces in place. And he was just one of those pieces. Furniture to put on the truck. He laughed humorlessly at the thought._ **

**_He guessed she had decided everything while she was away. And this long weekend she’d suggested was some kind of smokescreen designed to make him think he had a say? A holiday she could enjoy, knowing she wouldn’t actually have to make any hard decisions or compromises? This morning Oliver had been halfway to picturing a new life for them in Central City. Maybe he would transfer, stay with SI for now, but – with Felicity’s help – give some real thought to leaving and taking that next step in his career. It freaked him out, but he could almost see it. He just didn’t want to be manipulated into it._ **

**_He had a lot of questions for her, but didn’t want to hear any of her answers yet. He was sure she had plenty; she always did. But he needed the time and space to think through all of this himself, before she clouded the issue for him. She was the smartest person he knew. He’d always loved that about her – thought it was cute how seriously she took pub trivia; found her incredibly sexy when she was working out a coding problem. The problem was, sometimes she would turn that big brain of hers against him and have three different arguments ready to go before he could form one._ **

**_Oliver needed to think about what he wanted, and he couldn’t do that here. He could be out before she got home tomorrow._ **

\-----

Oliver had just finished restocking the shelves with clean glassware – was motioning to Cat across the room that he was heading back to his office – when he saw her walk in the front door. There was a crush of people between them, but she was unmistakable. “Felicity.”

“What’s that, boss?” Tim was rushing by with a bottle of red in his hand, but paused to give Oliver a puzzled look. “You say something?”

“Yeah…um…no…” Oliver ran both hands down his cheeks and thought for a second.Tim moved to continue down to the end of the bar, but Oliver grabbed his arm. “Hey, do me a favor. You see that blonde in the blue dress?” He turned Tim around and nodded towards Felicity. “When she steps up to order, have a Moscow mule waiting for her – on the house.”

Tim craned his neck to get a look at Felicity through the crowd. “Cute. Who is she?” he asked, looking slyly at Oliver.

“Just do it for me, man. Where’s this Cab Sav going?” Tim told him, and Oliver took the bottle from his hand. “I got it. Cover that end. Oh, and extra lime in that mule.”

Tim laughed at him, but did as he asked and set himself up near where Felicity would approach. Oliver refilled the Cabernet Sauvignon for the older couple sitting at the bar’s edge, and poured half a glass for himself.

Damn, he was nervous. All day, he’d been anxious to see her, but then it had more to do with worrying about Bill and knowing how scared she was rushing home to get to him. Later, as he waited for visiting hours to end, he was apprehensive that maybe he was overstepping. She knew how to get herself home, and he didn’t want to intrude, but he thought it’d be one less thing on her plate for the day. She hadn’t even seemed all that surprised to see him standing there and, headstrong as she was, actually accepted the ride.

The drive to the apartment had been nice. It felt good to talk to her honestly like he had in their earlier days, and he didn’t think he was imagining what felt like a little spark between them. Felicity looked almost exactly the same – maybe her hair was a little shorter – and all of her quirks were still there. He could barely keep from laughing when she did her triumphant fist pump thing after finding her keys. When she glared at him, he realized he’d even missed her exasperation, her quick flares of temper.

And now she was here; she’d tracked him down at Verdant. He needed a little time to adjust to that. Stowing his empty glass, Oliver eased from behind the bar and into the crowd, looping around to stand at the opposite end near the door. Felicity was slowly making her way towards Tim and looking around the room. He felt a rush of pride when he thought he saw her smile at the banquettes – he’d upholstered those himself in reclaimed leather. When she began to sway in time to the music, he got lost momentarily in a memory of her hips cradling his as they moved together, his beard rasping against her skin as he kissed his way up her neck to whisper in her ear. Her tugging at his hair and pulsing around him.

She’d found an empty seat, was talking to Tim now, and Oliver watched closely for her reaction. She smiled when the drink landed in front of her. When Tim gestured in his direction, Oliver stood up a little straighter and exhaled. Had he been holding his breath? Felicity turned toward him, and the instant they locked eyes her smile slid off her face. Wait...shit. A split second later, she was off her stool and coming right at him.

“Jesus, Oliver. What? Did you follow me here? Are you insane?!”

He looked nervously around the room and guided her outside. The second they hit the sidewalk she was in his face, shoving him in the chest, and shouting.

“You have _got_ to be _kidding me_! What could you possibly be doing here?”

Disappointment washed over him. She hadn’t come here looking for him. “Felicity, wait. _Stop_.” He folded her hands into his. “I own this place. Verdant. It’s my bar. I thought…” He stopped talking when he saw her nails. They were painted cherry red. He hadn’t noticed that earlier. He licked his lips and continued, “I thought you came here tonight to see me.”

For a long time they just stood there staring at each other, until Felicity broke away and swept up the sidewalk in a torrent of words. “Of course. _Of course_. Of all the bars in this town…I don’t hear anything from him in two years and suddenly, _poof_! He’s everywhere. With rides and drinks and a freakin’ hipster bar.”

Hearing the bitterness in her voice, seeing her practically vibrate with rage, Oliver felt a razor-sharp stab of guilt. She was still so angry with him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her this way, and was chagrined to know that he was the cause. This was the raw pain and anger he’d heard on his voicemail two years ago when he was too lost and angry to return her calls. Seeing her express it now, so close to the surface, was both shocking and bewildering. He stood rooted in front of Verdant contemplating what this could mean. He had always assumed she’d moved on – imagined she looked back on their past dispassionately from the moment she decided he was no longer worth fighting for.

The instant she began crying, Oliver bolted up the street and wrapped his arms around her. She was shaking. Sobs wracked her small frame, and every sound was like a knife in his heart. “Shhh, shhh. I’ve got you, Felicity. Breathe. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He reached under her glasses to stop the tears from running down her cheeks, and ran his other hand up and down her back. He’d gladly stand there for the rest of the night, holding her close. Hell, if she wanted to hit him again, punch him right in the face, he’d let her. And bandage her bruised knuckles after.

He leaned back a little and looked down at her. Her glasses were crooked and wisps of hair had fallen down onto her face. She was beautiful. He felt guilty for thinking of it now, but in this moment, she looked like she had on nights spent watching movies on the couch; curled into his side, her lovely face makeup-less and a bit tear-stained because she always cried during Inigo’s duel against Count Rugen in _The Princess Bride_. “Tell me what you need,” he asked.

The answer he least expected was for her to kiss him. Her lips were soft and sweet and insistent. After a split second of hesitation, Oliver opened his mouth to her and searched for the familiar touch of her tongue. He pulled her closer and savored the feel of her curves against his chest, beneath his hands. Then she bit him, and he thought his knees would buckle. He tore his lips away but leaned his forehead to hers; tried to get his bearings. “My god, Felicity.”

He was desperate for her, and if she kept touching him like this – one hand gently scraped down his cheek while the other gripped his shirt – he didn’t know if he’d survive the night without taking her to bed. Is that what she wanted? Once more he looked into her face, searching for an answer. Felicity kissed him again and whispered, “Oliver. Take me home.”

Oliver swallowed thickly and squeezed his eyes shut, tried to think. She gripped his shirt tighter and rocked against him, and his eyes flew open. “Yes, okay. Absolutely.”

\-----

**Listen to Halsey’s Roman Holiday[here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=heMTVlawFmM)**


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